


Tim Drake in Hogwarts

by James_Remus_Regulus_Black



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Crossover, Fighting, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_Remus_Regulus_Black/pseuds/James_Remus_Regulus_Black
Summary: Inspired by a prompt 'Apparition of Your Sins: The Vigilante of Wizarding Britain' by Otter_BoomIn all of Tim's carefully planned versions of the future, going to a magic school in Britain never came up.Yeah I know the title isn't very creativeIgnore it when it says that's its completed - I have no idea how to make it look like it updated - I'm not done and will definitely continue this





	1. Chapter 1

Where were they? They were always here at this time. Did one of them get injured? But that makes no sense, cause if that happened the other would be there anyway, protecting the streets of Gotham. Tim let go of his camera to rub his fingers together - it was cold. God forbid Gotham is warm at night, even at the end of spring.

Craning his neck in the hope of catching a glimpse of red and yellow, Tim couldn't help but wonder if they might have found out they were being watched and changed their patrol route. 

Wait, there! Movement! He fumbled to focus his camera in the direction. His eyebrows jumped up to his hairline in shock. An owl? In Gotham? Well, really, he shouldn't be shocked by anything happening at this city. Did someone empty out all the cage a in the zoo? Is that where Batman and Robin were?

He snapped a picture anyway, but the owl was just getting closer. Maybe he took it's hiding spot? Tim climbed of the gargoyle and staggered back into the roof. The owl didn't sit down on top of he gargoyle, instead, it dropped something onto his head and flew away in the same direction it came from. 

Tim picked up the envelope and curiously enough, his name was was written in bright green.

Mr T. Drake  
Upstairs bedroom  
(Insert address) Gotham

Huh, that was... wierdy precise. He smelled the letter, there didn't seem anything off about it. He also shook it, but there didn't seem to be a bomb or powder inside. Besides, who would target him, except maybe the dynamic duo to demand why he's been taking their pictures all the time. 

So, someone with an owl knew his name and where he lived. But hey, this is Gotham. He would have been really concerned if it was a clown or a penguin or a cat that brought him the letter. He couldn't think of any bad guy using owls. Well, his parents' friends sometimes talked about some court to do with owls when they thought he wasn't listening, but they would speak to him when he was at a gala, right? Why do this?

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc.,  
Chef. Warlock, Supreme Mugwumps, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr Drake,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmisstress.

There were more papers, but Tim decided to read them when he got home, so that he'd get some time to process all this.

Ok, so this McGonagall woman claims that he's a wizard, and that he's going to go to a school that teaches magic. As intriguing a story that is, he has yet to verify whether a) it's true, b) he'll be able to learn everything he wants, and c) the location.

Plus, he doesn't have an owl so how would he respond anyway? He could ask one of those court people, but they'd want something back.

The lights in his room were on. Tim was sure that he turned them off. He climbed up the tree next to his window warily to see his parents inside.

When did they get home? Why are they in my room? Why do they look worried?

He snuck into he bedroom next to his and left the camera and the jacket there. Hoping that they weren't there for long, Tim decided to act as if he went to the bathroom and make up something about not wearing pajamas.

"Mum? Dad? I thought you weren't coming for another week."

His parents turned around at the sound of his voice and smiled.

"See, Janet, I told you he'd be fine."

"Yes, well, what was I to think when my son isn't in his bed at night?"

There weren't any hugs, or 'I missed yous' exchanged. 

Tim heard footsteps behind him and stepped out of the way as a tall man in a turban walked into his bedroom.

"Ap-pologies, Mr. Drake. I-I am Professor Quirrel of Hog-Hogwarts. I was sent he-here to present you your acceptance let-letter and to explain the wiz-wizarding world to you and-and your family. Un-unfortunately there has been a-a mishap, I believe you received your letter by-by owl?"

Sheepishly, Tim took out the papers from his pants pocket.

"Did you know about this?" He asked his parents. 

"He came here about half an hour ago and told us. So we came to wake you up. Where were you anyway?"

He could go with the original plan, but this could prove to be much more believable, surprisingly.

"I teleported."

"What?" Janet's eyes widened.

"Yeah, one second I was sitting here, getting ready for bed, and then poof! And I'm freezing in Gotham harbor."

"Is that possible?" Jack demanded from Quirrell, who started looking at him with interest now instead of just bored like before.

"Yes, but it is very advanced magic."

His parents beamed with pride.

So they started discussing technicalities. His parents were overjoyed at hearing that Hogwarts was a boarding school, which they were currently sending him to anyway. The difference being that Hogwarts was in Scotland and you could only come home for Christmas and summer. Quirrell asked him if he ever preformed any other magic, so Tim thought back to the time he dropped his camera, but it somehow fixed itself when he picked it up, or how he got a batarang to fly at him because it was too close to the fighting and he really wanted to keep it (he told Quirrell that he dropped a pen). And that time Scarecrow put the whole city into a blackout, and there was a ball of light suddenly next to him until he fell asleep.

Tim freaked out back then, thinking he was a meta human. He knew what happened to meta humans so he never told anyone and tried to figure out what was going on. He practiced all of those again when he could - he could actually summon small objects to him when he was being lazy, like rubbers or something. He tried with a glass of water but it didn't work out. He tried summoning a light again, but it either didn't work or wasn't bright enough. And he hardly broke anything to fix try fixing it.  
He tried to figure out if he had one specific superpower, or if he wa like super man and had a bunch. Then he started to think he was an alien and whether Jack and Janet were his biological parents. (They were. He checked.) 

"When we-we go to Diagonal Al-ley, you will purchase a wand-"

"Why?"

"Ex-excuse -"

"Why do I need a wand?"

"Timothy, don't be rude."

"But each time I did magic, I just thought about doing it and it happened!"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you believe me?" His parents fell silent at that. 

"What you have-have done Mr. Dra-Drake is classified as acci-accidental magic, common with magical children."

"But I could do it again." Quirrell raised a brow so Tim turned to his desk and focused on the penny there. He closed his eyes and clenched the fist by his side, while holding up he other palm. 

Come to me.

The penny zipped to his open palm and he turned, showing it to Quirrel and his parents, all of whom looked amazed to Tim's eyes.


	2. Quirrel's POV of last chapter

Unfortunately, Quirrell was often sent to the house of all the muggleborn children to explain the wizarding world to them - he had been the muggle studies professor after all. Usually, he'd come face to face with relief - their child was not a mutant or whatever they feared them would be. No, their child was gifted. The parents would call the child from whichever nook or cranny they were hiding in and the whole ensemble would march into Diagon Alley, gaping at the littlest of things and barely catching up with Quirrell, who wasn't about to wait for some snot-nosed brat who was drooling at the sight of his or hers astronomy equipment.  
The house would be filled with pictures of the child, and the parents would fall over themselves to share stories of their child's brilliance to anyone listening.

That didn't happen in the Drake house. 

Quirrell messed up, he wasn't really paying attention when he received that letter and must have sent it by owl. Then he forgot of the time difference between Britain and America and getting there presented a bigger challenge than he anticipated so he must have taken just as long as the owl to get there. 

The house was empty. He pressed on the doorbell and knocked on the door enough times to register that, and yet this was clearly labeled as the place of residence so the family must be asleep. He hoped the noise would wake them. Obviously these muggles had thicker skulls.

Just as he was about to leave and return in the morning, a car drove up to the building. At this hour? Quirrell quirked a brow at the couple, holding numerous luggage bags and the working men carrying boxes with 'fragile' printed on them.

"Are you lost, sir?"

"Are you the Drakes, by any chance?" They stared at his turban warily.

"Who's asking?"

"I am Prof-fessor Quirrell. A letter has been sent to- to your son today. He has men-men-mentioned it to you, hasn't he?"

"Our son receives many letters, but rarely feels the need to share. What is this about?" The man asked as his wife opened the door for the workers to go through. 

"He has been accep-ted into our school, in Britain. However, this-this is a matter that calls for being settled...privately."

"I'm afraid we didn't apply for any school in Britain. He will continue with the school he is going to now. Now please, sir,-"

"I'm-I'm afraid that is impossible, Madame. Your so-son has an incredible gift only ta-taught in our school."

Now the parents looked curious, but also clueless. 

"We will call Timothy once you explain what is going on." And as soon as the more inferior muggles left, he did. They wouldn't believe him, of course, until he demonstrated a simple growth charm on their pillow, then shrank it, before returning it to its orginal size. They left him there and went upstairs.  
He looked around the room in the attempt to kill his boredom. He had no interest in his students at the moment as, should everything go to plan, he wouldn't even be teaching this year.  
Despite his lack of interest, he noticed that there was no sign of a child in the living room. No photographs, or toys lying around, or markers on the wall perhaps as he encountered in some of the houses he had the pleasure of visiting. Not even the muggle children books.

Finally fed up with waiting for the muggles to wake up their child, Quirrell walked upstairs, to see the boy already dressed, wide awake and looking up at his parents apprehensively.


	3. Getting there...

The newspapers explained it all:

Death of the ward of Bruce Wayne

Tim's heart jumped into his throat but then he saw the picture and air came back into his lungs. Dick was also attending the funeral, which meant Lance died and was probably the reason the two didn't patrol yesterday.  
He wondered what could have happened as he sat on the plane with his parents for the first time (Quirrell declared that he'd be getting there by other means.). Were the Wayne's attacked? Nothing about that, no. Was it completely unrelated to batman and Robin? Unlikely.  
He hates not knowing things!  
So Tim hounded every newspaper from the last week to try to figure out what went on.

Stark, CEO of Zenith oil behind bars! Batman and Robin responsible for one more innocent life rotting in jail!

There were pictures - grainy ones, sure, but it showed Robin getting shot in one, and shot with something that wasn't even a gun in the other. Both newspapers had pretty much completely different Robins on camera, somehow. The one that was shot with a gun (straight into the heart) was taller, less muscle and, this was the sincher, his hair wasn't black! It was some light brunette, blonde or ginger or something anything but black.

So Lance pretended to be Robin, for one night, and died.

Tim shuddered at the thought and added the two newspaper clippings to his collection, a collection he would, apparently, have to put on hold. He asked Quirrell if it would be possible for him to get muggle newspapers sent to him.  
Quirrell adopted a strange look on his face, as if he was just asked to hold a soggy diaper. Then curtly answered that no, and that he would just have to make do with wizarding newspapers.

Tim decided to subscribe to every wizarding newspaper on the hopes of at least one of them being interested in American muggle news. 

 

He and his parents took the plane, Quirrell decided to travel by other means but didn't specify what those are, so Tim assumed it was teleporting - which was awesome. He could just imagine sneaking up behind the goons and the moment they notice him, he's gone, in his bed.

Both Jack and Janet were incredibly excited to see the Diagon Alley and the magical objects. They agreed to link their bank account to Tim's magical account (he convinced them, cause even if he did spend it irresponsibly, he'd be buying magical stuff so they didn't mind). 

Quirrell met them at the airport, shrinked their luggage so they all put it in their pockets, and led them to a nearby room, which his parents didn't even see before he opened the door apparently. The room was full of fireplaces.

"Wa-watch me closely. And ple-please repay wha-what I do." He grabbed a bunch of dust, walked into the fire, threw it onto the floor and yelled, clearly, "Diagon Alley". Then the fire engulfed him and he disappeared.  
Janet clutched Tim's shoulder, but Jack, excited, did the same and also disappeared. 

"I'm not sure about this...maybe there's another way-"

"But dad already went. And Quirrell's a teacher, he won't put a student in danger." 

Feeling that she was still uncertain, Tim ran into the fireplace and quickly got everything done before his mum could stop him. He appeared, coughing and covered in suit on the other side. A very loud other side.


	4. Diagon Alley

While his parents gawked at everything that moved, Tim did not want to stand out. Unfortunately, in this world wearing jeans and a t-shirt doesn't help when one wants to blend in. So the first thing he did was go to the clothes' shop - Madame Malkins.

(Gringotts was a complete mess that Tim would rather never think of again. And he is definitely never letting his parents join him next time he goes to the bank.)

The shop was packed. At the back, there were children around his age so he gravitated in their direction before one of the assistant women asked him if he was going to Hogwarts. When he answered affirmatively, he was dragged to the children section.

An older boy, with a spotted face and a green crest on his cloak-thing sneered down at him. The sneer widened when he caught sigh of Janet twirling in a dress, with flower patterns... which were moving. Tim wondered where she could possibly wear it- oh, there it goes, she bought it.

His dad, on the other hand, was looking at the ties, which were tying themselves. After getting his Hogwarts robes fitting and a few shirts here or there that looked cool, Tim joined him. Jack didn't notice his son curiously examining the self-typing shoelaces next to him. That is, until he went to get himself some me singing cuff-links and tripped on him. 

Quirrell hid his snicker at the display.   
They spent a small fortune in that shop, and Tim fully intended to spend another in Flourish and Blotts. 

Other than the necessary textbooks, Tim bought any book that looked interesting on history, mostly modern and books focused on people called 'Grindelwald', 'Dumbledore' (who was apparently his headmaster) and 'You-Know-who' a book he bought precisely because he had no idea who they were talking about. Any books on wizarding celebreties also went into the cart - he needed to know their pop-culture references after all because Tim Drake would never let himself be clueless in a conversation. Fantastic beasts and where to find them found itself being bought too, as he was interested in what creatures wizards were familiar with and which ones to avoid at all costs - he didn't want to die because of his ignorance, thank you very much! He also bought a bunch of books on hexes by Professor Vindictus Viridan. If anyone asks, it was for self-defense.

When he found out that wizarding politics in Britain were highly similar to the British ones, He asked Quirrell who was the current Prime Minister. (Apparently you don't call him Prime, but Minister Fudge didn't sound exactly threatening). 

In the owl emporium, he subscribed to the Daily Prophet, Transfiguaration Today, the New York Ghost and some magazine called the Quibbler. He considered a subscription to Witch Weekly for a few seconds, if only to get up to date with current gossip. But he immediately dismissed the idea when he thought of the risk that the boy's would find it in the dorms and never let him live it down. 

It all ended with a trip to Olivander's wand shop. After Olivander's measured him, he offered him two different wands, both of which failed either by breaking a window of turning Jack's hair to turn red. 

"Try this one, Apple wood, dragon-hearstring, seven inches...might just work."


	5. Sorting ceremony

His parents left him at Diagon Alley and took the next train to France at the beginning of June. Since then, he's been living in the Leaky cauldron and stuffing his face with weird candy. Quirrell came by often, alone or with other families to show around. Tim got pretty good at seeing the difference between wizards and muggles, especially after he read a particularly detailed book about the inferiority of non-magical people. That book was full of sugar, because if the author met Batman and Robin, he would have to say that muggles can be strong too. Stronger than some wizards, if Tim had to bet.

He's already practiced every spell in his first year books, not all of which were successful at first...or ever. So he's still practicing as well as trying to find out everything about the proper customs. People here seem to be addressing each other by their surnames more often than their actual names, and Tim wondered whether that was a British thing or a wizard thing. And he also stood out because of his apparent accent, so he started to work in his British accent.

"Almost there, dear." The mirror said and Tim beamed at it. Much better than the 'nice try, dear' that he got the first time.

The robes were hard to get used to, and writing with a quill, and a lack of computers.

In August, a celebrity came to the Leaky cauldron. Harry Potter. Tim read about him in 'Modern Magical History' and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'. He craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the boy's scar, but didn't step closer. Mostly because the crowd created an impenetrable wall around him. 

Bored out of his mind, Tim decided to follow him. Why not? What if he got worse at sneaking around by the holidays and one of the vigilantes saw him taking their photos? No, he could not let himself get rusty. He followed him and a giant man, (Har-Potter called him Hagrid) to Gringotts. He stayed outside and pretended to be checking out the Nimbus Two-Thousand in the windowsill along with the other boys before the two came out. But seeing Ha-Potter do normal shopping lacked its entertainment and Tim found himself in the bookshop again, on the way to which he passed by Quirrell, who was muttering under his breath. 

By the first of September, he was ready for school. Armed with 'Hogwarts, a history', his wand and his trunk, Tim ordered a portkey to the train station.

His problem started when he couldn't find the platform. He even asked one of the men in the uniforms, and they just laughed him off. He looked around for someone who looked like wizards, and spotted a family wearing green robes. There was a girl about his age with an owl, and a younger girl. All of them had poker faces on as the approached the wall between platforms Nine and ten. Tim watched curiously as the girl walked right through it confidently. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. But her parents and sister soon followed so he decided to give it a shot too. 

On the other side, there was a huge steam train. Tim quickly moved out of the way of the wall, smiling giddily as he took out his new magical camera that made pictures move! He was surrounded by magic and it was awesome! Families all around him were saying their goodbyes, some tearfully as he entered the train, thinking back to the rushed farewell his parents left him earlier.

Inside, he saw Potter sitting alone in one of the compartments. He chewed his lip wondering whether he should enter. Before he could make up his mind though, some ginger boy pushed him out of the way and entered. He already has friends. Figures. Tim steered clear of the contamperent with two other gingers, another boy with dreadlocks and something that looked like a huge spider. There was also a compartment with a bunch of boys and girls who already knew each other, if he was judging from the familiar way they acted together. He just wanted an empty space, is that impossible here? Apparently, yes. So he sat in a compartment with a chubby boy, a girl with bushy hair and twin sisters. Ok, time to shine. Here comes the British accent.

"Hullo, can I sit here? Everywhere else is pretty much full." They nodded and as soon as he sat down, the girl with a mane for hair started ranting off facts that she learnt after Professor McGonogal (apprently, their Transfiguration teacher) visited her. 

"Did you know, that Hogwarts is haunted by ghosts? There's Fat friar, for Hufflepuff, the Bloody baron for Slytherin and Nearly Headless Nick for Gryffindor! When I meet him, I will ask how it is that he became nearly headlesss. All of these ghosts are descendants of the original founders. And were you aware that there's also a poltergeist called Peeves?" Tim put a hand up to stop her before she exploded. 

"Yeah, I read the books too." Her eyes glittered.

"Really? You're the first one I spoke to that has."

"I doubt the purebloods need to read them, their parents probably told them already. Right?" He turned to the chubby kid, who nodded quickly.

"My gran...she explained some things to me." His toad croaked in affirmation and everyone's eyes turned towards it. "This is Trevor. He keeps running away for some reason."

"Why didn't anyone put a tracking spell on it then? Or you could use a leash, maybe?" Tim suggested.

"I don't know." He looked down at the ground, by which time Tim got tired of referring to him as 'toad boy' and asked his name.

"Neville Longbottom"

"Hermeione Granger"

"Parvati Patil"

"Padma Patil" 

"Tim Drake, nice to meet all of you."

He turned to Granger, the only obvious muggleborn of the group, and tried to piece together some sort of a conversation.

"So...what do you think of Batman and Robin?"

"Batman and who?" Yep, they're not going to be friends.

"You know, Robin, the first kid sidekick? He wears red and has a yellow cape? Makes a lot of puns?"

"I have never heard of him." Then what do you do all day?

"Well, he's awesome - he's the best vigilante!"

"But vigilantism are against the law!" He noticed the twins giving each glances from the corner of his eye, as if asking 'what the heck are they talking about?'. Neville looked curious too. 

"Doesn't make them any less cool. They saved the world, like, three time by now." Now she looked amused.

"Do you really believe all of that alien nonsense they talk about on the news?" Yeah, because I saw Martian Manhunter with my own eyes visiting Gotham.

"Who do you think Superman is?"

"Superman does not exist."

"Does too!"

"Does not! The government made him up as propaganda!"

"He's real, I saw him!"

"You probably dreamed him up."

"I know what I saw." He glared at her. How dare she assume what he did or did not do? "Besides, if the Professor hasn't come to you directly to tell you that you're a witch, you wouldn't have believed that either!"

"At least there's proof of magic - I can do it!"

"I have proof!" Tim reached into his pocket for one of his best pictures. It was of Superman giving Robin a piggyback ride while floating from a few years back. He wondered how come Superman hasn't heard his camera clicking, he was sure he would have gotten caught that day.

Granger barely glanced at it.

"It's fake. They photoshopped it." One of the twins moved closer.

"Why isn't it moving?"

"Muggle photos don't move, unfortunately. And it's not fake, I took it."

"I don't believe you." He was about to say something, when Neville stood up abruptly.

"Trevor's gone"

Thus, they stalked the train for the missing toad. Granger went to the end of the train but he and Neville went to the front. The twins stayed inside and gossiped about some guy called Gilderoy Lockhart, whoever that was. (Apparently he had a charming smile or whatever). 

At one point, he saw the girl from earlier, whom he followed through the wall. She was with that group of people who seemed to already know each other. He glanced at each one - he'd wager purebloods, the lot of them. He'd call it lucky guess, but it was mostly because the moment they saw Neville the blonde kid coughed out 'blood traitor' and they all sniggered.

"We are looking for a lost toad. You haven't seen one by chance, have you?" Blondie straightened and stared at him.

"Do you know who you are speaking to?"

"Should I?"

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." That did actually ring a bell - one of the richest families in wizarding Britain. Luckily, Tim has practice speaking to entitled children.

"And I'm Drake, Timothy Drake. I also cannot care less for your family's name, it's not your parents I'm talking to now is it?" The others sobered up immediately.

"I've never heard of the Drakes." Another girl stated. "I'm Parksinosn, Pansy."

"Nice to meet you. And no, I suppose you wouldn't have heard of us. My family has little influence on this island, the continent on the other side of the Atlantic...is another story." Parkinson raised a brow.

"Interesting, and how-"

"Have you seen a toad or not?" Malfoy sneered at him.

"No, we have not. Now take your pet blood traitor with you and get out." Before they could though, another boy ran up to them, panting. "Harry Potter is here! He's at the end of the train!"

"Useful as ever, Nott." Malfoy smirked and stood up, two piles of fat standing up with him and following him out of the door.

 

They didn't find the toad.

 

He got stuck in a boat with Nott, Parkinson, the girl from earlier (who later introduced herself as Daphne Greengrass) and the twins. 

It was awkward. Nott seemed quite content with the silence, but Parkinson wanted to know what exact,y the Drakes got up to, how high up where they in the American government, which Quidditch team did they officially support and which one did they actually support. Throughout all of which Tim straightfaced her.   
The twins were lucky, they silent-spoke to each other with their eyes. And Greengrass kept rolling her eyes the longer Parkinson kept asking him stuff. He hoped he could pull of this whole 'pureblood' thing, if for nothing else then to see how good he is at acting like a Brit who his whole life knew he could preform magic. Maybe he could go on undercover missions when he grew up - he could be a spy or something if he practiced long enough! He might even get to work alongside Dick Grayson!

In the castle, McGonogal met them and led them into the Great Hall, where they were greeted by applause. The exciting bit happens after the old hat stopped singing ominously - Hufflepuff!

Huh, so that's how they get sorted.

He was one of the first to be sorted, after Bones (also Hufflepuff) and Boot (Ravenclaw) and Brcklehurst (Ravenclaw again) and Brown (Gryffindor) and Bustrode (Slytherin) land Crabbe (one of the blocks around Malfoy - Slytherin). Tim thought he'd end up in Hufflepuff too, but maybe there was more to Crabbe than he originally thought if he ended up in the house of cunning and ambition.

"Drake, Timothy." 

"Hmm." The hat said in his head. "We have a detective in our midst." Tim's eyes widened.

"How-"

"I do the talking. Ravenclaw would suit you well. So would Slytherin." Tim's eyes fell into the green banner. He read all about it - Slytherins always got what they wanted, no matter what. Ravenclaws...not so much. Before he could say anything back to the hat though, it already shouted 'Slytherin!'.

Quirell quirked a brow. A muggleborn? In Slytherin? He wouldn't last a week!


	6. Welcome to Slytherin

Slytherins operated this way - dog eats dog. Tim found out about this the moment he stepped into his new common room and was thrown into the wall. The boy from the clothes shop was glowering at him.  
"Are ickie firsties the only way you can demonstrate your so called superiority now, Pucey?" The girl prefect sneered, which encouraged a few sniggers. Tim whipped out his wand, feeling some blood trickle down his back.  
"This isn't just any firstie, it's a muggleborn!" The room immediately shifted and Tim was suddenly provided with five meters of isolation from all corners. So no one was going to help him...he could work with that...probably.  
"I saw him at Malkins', he brought his muggle parents with him," the boy spat at the ground, as if the mere idea of Tim's parents being present in a place with him was repulsive (his parents must think so too, considering the amount of time they spend in the same country as him).  
Pucey raised his wand again but Tim decided to cast something first.  
"Entomorphis!" A few sparks shot from his wand and disappeared into thin air. Pucey smirked and advanced on him.  
"Trying to turn me into a bug, mudblood?" A couple of people gasped. Tim ignored everything around him in an attempt of focusing on trying again. Before he could though, Pucey yelled out "Expelliarmus" and his wand went flying. He was really close now, sneering down at him smugly. Tim shut his eyes tightly.  
"Look at that! He's scared!" More sniggers filled the common room before a bright light appeared out of nowhere in front of Pucey. He screamed, covering his eyes as the light promptly disappeared. Before he could get his bearings though, Tim kneed him in the gut. Pucey doubled over, reaching Tim's height, at which point Tim punched him the way he saw Robin punching Two-face in February. Or at least he thought it was the same way (Robin broke Dent's nose, Pucey's nose is fine).   
Everyone was quiet. Pucey slowly raised to his height and glared at him. Tim's eyes skittered over everyone in the common room, but they just stared back apathetically.   
Then, an even taller, scarier boy than Pucey approached them.  
"Stay out of this, Flint."  
"The midget just performed wandless magic. And you know their kind are barbarians. If you let him take you out before Quidditch season even starts, you'll have a lot more to worry about than your failing Transfiguration grades." Pucey stormed off upstairs while Tim went to get his wand, thinking of how he was going to deal with this.  
Should he ask the hat to put him in Ravenclaw instead?  
No, that would be admitting defeat.  
Although it sounded pretty good now that he was pushed to the floor and someone kicked his wand further away.

 

Tim woke up bold with purple skin.  
Alright, that's it! He was going to teach these children that prejudice was wrong. And for that, he was going to need a scary teacher, like Snape. Who, coincendentally, is the only professor who can be contacted from the Slytherin common room fireplace.  
He read that in Hogwarts: a history - one could wither floo to his office, floo speak, or send a message. Digging around his bag for some parchment and a quill he tiptoed downstairs to write the note from an anonymous femal student. Hopefully Snape would believe a girl wrote this, because Tim's messy-unused-to-quill handwriting was not by any means the loopy, girly handwriting he knew girls had. 

Dear Professor Snape,  
I and some of the other girls in my dorm are concerned about the numerous incidents to do with one of the first years so far, and it's only been his first night here! We were wondering if you could please spare a moment to look into the issue, as we are worried that he won't reach out to you himself (he seems very shy). Daphne has mentioned that he seemed homesick on the train ride here, and the behavior of some of the elder years (namely Adrian Pucey) is probably making it worse for him. Please help him sir!

\- some of the girls from Slytherin 

 

There, that seemed like something a girl would write. And Greengrass seemed the friendliest on the train, so name dropping her might make it more believable.

 

Snape walked towards the Slytherin common room with dread. There was not a single femal in Slytherin that had such dreadful handwriting, and neither Parkinson, Greengrass or even Bulstrode would have been capable of writing such a letter, he was sure of it. Also, Daphne would never pity anyone, Draco has come crying to him on enough occasions for that notion to be thrown out of his mind immediately. Besides, he was fairly sure who was the bullied student mentioned in the letter, and after the first writing task he gives them, he would know for sure that it was the same boy who wrote the note.


	7. Meet your head of house

Snape waited in the shadows of the common room as the first year boys started coming downstairs with an air of mirth around them. The reason was obvious when Drake walked downstairs purple and bold, wrestling with a bag that was trying to eat him. Snape was about to cast a finite and step into the light, when Warrington sent a tripoingnhex at him and the big tumbled down the rest of the stairs.

"Enough! Finite incantatum!" All movement stopped. "Worrington, detention with me tonight. Mr. Drake, come here." He waited for the child to speed walk to him. "This behavior is unacceptable. Mr Drake is your housemate and will be treated appropriately. Seeing as he has yet to learn any spells, he is defenseless so attacking him would be labeling yourselves as cowards." He drawled before twisting and pulling Drake with him out of the common room.  
"Thank you, sir! Do you think they're going to stop now?"  
"No." Tim frowned. Teachers weren't supposed to be honest like that... "But you already knew that, Drake. In the future, refrain from asking stupid questions, it is unbecoming." Tim's head snapped up, how did Snape know? What did he do wrong? At his old school, when he looked at the ground just so and asked these kinds of questions, his teachers made sure to be present at all times to interfere between what was going on (most of the time, Tim wasn't even the victim, but it still worked to help the others if he kept close to the kids that he knew were actually being bullied.)

Snape stopped walking and turned to face Tim, he had a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profoundly and yet he hadn't made a sound. Instead, he was staring up at him, confused.  
"Did I do something wrong, sir?" The boy looked at the ground, his eyes filling up with tears (on demand, he practiced) and he shuffled his feet, seemingly nervous.   
Snape sneered down at him.  
"Save those tricks for fools and ask what you want." Tim looked up at him with narrowed eyes.  
"Won't you do anything? You're a teacher! That treatment is clearly prejudiced and should be discouraged. Also, if I should stop acting, so should you - don't look at me like that, if you were just as prejudiced as them, you wouldn't have come at all so-"  
"You know nothing child. And that letter you sent was sloppy, should I have mentioned it you would have been buried alive in there."  
"But you didn't mention it, and-"  
"And yet I must listen to the insolence of an ungrateful child rather than-"  
"You're not a teacher! Why are you even here?" That one caught Snape off guard, why would Drake think that? But before he could respond, he heard a familiar cough of interruption.   
"Su-surely the boy mu-must head to-to the hospita-tal wing? That loo-looks pain-painful."  
"Of course, Professor Quirrell, Professor Snape was just showing me the way." Snape went gloomily silent.  
"If-if I may, how did-did it hap-pen?" Quirrell knew, though. It was obvious! He just wanted to hear it from the boy.  
"I merely tripped, Professor. I'm not quite used to the dorms and was rather sleepy. It was clumsy of me, I'm sorry if it worried you, but I'm perfectly fine." Tim even flashed him a smile for emphasis. It seemed to work as Quirrell quickly scurried off to breakfast.  
"No sniveling complaints to him?"  
"Unlike you, professor, Quirrell would have made some pretense of agreement but would only use it to throw me to the dogs. He thinks he's subtle, but he hates muggles and muggle borns. You should see his face when Dad's phone rings - priceless." Tim smiled a bit, figuring that if Snape wasn't a teacher, he must be on some kind of undercover mission for the poli-Aurors. Maybe he's solving the danger of the third corridor that Dumbledore mentioned?   
Snape didn't answer. Instead, he pushed him towards the hospital wing.  
"You already missed half of the breakfast period. Here is your timetable. Do not be late."


	8. Potions

Immediately after all the lessons, Tim marched to the library and somehow managed to evade his House mates and find the library (by asking a bunch of students, teachers and portraits, even pleading with the staircase).  
"Excuse me, Madame Pince? Are there any books on protecting spells?" She glanced down at him before pointing to the right. "Thank you!"  
There was a whole shelf, so Tim started with skimming the contexts of each book until he found :

Chapter 5 - privacy runes

And next to it, scribbled in elegant writing was 'how to protect your bed from housemates'. 

Tim's eyebrows rose. That was oddly specific. Did this happen often? He went back to the first page to see if he could match the handwriting to whoever took this book out. 

T. Riddle - 7th September 1937

Oh. The kid was probably dead by now. He went back to the rune and copied it out, underlining the fact that it runs out and will have to be applied weekly unless a stronger and way more complicated rune that Tim couldn't even read could be applied.

Then Tim fished out what little homework he has been given so far and thought about Snape, was he really an Auror? What if he's the bad guy? What if he's hiding something on the third floor, like a secret layer. Tim started imagining how Snape planted something here as a child and put protections on it, and now he wants it back but something went wrong so he has to spend time here in Ambon-suspicious way. Tim glared at his ink pot. He's never not solved something before. He decided to spy on Snape, follow him around the castle, see what he's up to. 

As soon as he's done with the homework, of course.

Tim worried his lip. He never followed someone in an enclosed space before, he'd only done it on rooftops. What if he got caught? Who knows what kind of magic non-teacher Snape knows? But at least he'll know more about his 'teaching' techniques after his first Potions lesson in a few days.

Until then...he'll just do his homework and follow Snape around and hopefully not get beaten up by his own House mates.

 

Time skip

The rune worked. Either that or the kids just stoped trying to prank him at night. Tim made a note to thank old man Riddle if he ever got to meet the grandpa. Or if he'd do it to the grave, whichever.

 

Snape took a roll call, eyeing Tim a bit when he got to his name and seeing that nothing was out of ordinary went back to it, pausing again when he got to the Boy who lived, over whom Tim was quietly fan boying over and reading books about sometimes in the library.

"Harry Potter, our new celebrity." A few sniggers started from behind Tim. Snape went back to the roll call before giving a really cool speech that sort of reminded him of Batman's nightly warnings to Robin, which Tim has summarized to: "Do as I say, or you die." 

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Hermeione's hand shot into the air and Tim twitched to do the same. But Potter knew the answer, surely.

"I don't know, sir." The little smile on Tim's face fell. He thought he was about to hear a whole explanation, but 

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." Is that what it is? Maybe Tim just got a bit starstruck.

"Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told where to find me a bezoar?" The kids behind Tim were laughing openly now as he hoped that Harry knew the answer to this at least. It's important! Like knowing to disinfect a wound and to put a plaster on it.

"I don't know sir." Maybe he was pretending to be stupid so that the enemy would underestimate him. But not this stupid!

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" 

Granger stood up as Tim buried his face in his hands.

"I don't know, I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Some of the Gryffindors started laughing, but it did nothing to elevate Tim's bad mood.

"Sit down." Snape snapped. "These are all common knowledge, which one of you dunderheads actually bothered to read the books?" Although Hermione looked like she was going to fall out of her stool any second now, Tim dared to raise his hand. 

Snape turned to the Slytherins, most of whom have raised their hands. If Drake truly knew the answers though, maybe he would be able to truly drive the point across to the idiots in red and gold.

"Mr. Drake."

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion, sir. A bezoar is located in the stomach of a goat. The last question is a trick question, sir, as monkshood and wolsbane are the same plant."

"That's not fair!" Weasley yelled, suddenly. "Harry's new to the wizarding world, he was raised by muggles!" 

"So was I." Tim gave him the stink eye, which seemed to shut the kid up at least.

"Are you implying, Weasley, that since you were raised in the wizarding world, you knew the answers to these questions?" He didn't answer, other than by turning red in the face. "Well then, I expect a perfect potion from you, Weasley."

"And a point will be he taken from Gryffindor House for you cheek, both of you."

Then Snape paired him up with Greengrass and started complimenting Malloy, which he did for the entire lesson until Longbottom managed to melt his partner's cauldron.


	9. Flying

Malfoy only spoke about flying and Quidditch for a whole week after the announcment dropped that they'd be having flying lessons (which is just the coolest thing ever). No matter how many times Malfoy would look at him pointedly when talking of his escapades at Malfoy manor and how many techniques he has already perfected, it did nothing to ruin Tim's excitement. He always wanted to fly, albeit not on a broom but it's still close! He imagined one day showing off in front of Robin, and it would be Dick staring at him in awe instead of their usual performer/viewer dynamic. 

But he knew that could never happen.

On the actual day, he was stuck in between Nott and Greengrass, both of whom were ignoring him, which -yay, because since no one close to him was paying much attention they didn't notice his small, magical camera. Standing across Neville he gave the nervous boy an encouraging smile, which for some reason made him pale even more (probably cause he thought all Slytherins were evil) (Weasley was giving Tim the stink eye- something to be aware of) (Patil and Parkinson were the only Gryffindor/Slytherin pair that weren't glaring at each other and has a somewhat non-threatening conversation).

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say UP!" Potter's broom, he notices, flies right into his hand. Tim's, however, jumped up into the sky at least five meters above him. And then fell just as suddenly, hitting the ground with a thump and breaking one of the tiny twigs growing on the side. 

After everyone got the brooms under control, Madame Hooch went around showing the proper way to hold the broom. By then, Tim was antsy - he wanted to fly now.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle-" Neville was in the air, wobbly and scared, but steadily rising. 

Hooch was screaming something, Tim itched to push off the ground, even as Neville fell, making an even louder crash than Tim's broom earlier.

The professor muttered something about a broken wrist and helped Neville to stand up again.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

 

They were barely gone when Malfoy started laughing.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Malfoy's friends sniggered in agreement, 

"Look!" Malfoy bent down and picked up something round and glittering out of the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"Give that here, Malfoy," Tim's eyes snapped to Potter as he slowly reached for his camera - whatever was about to happen will definitely be worth filming.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. Up a tree, perhaps?"

"Give it here!" 

"Come and get it, Potter!"

 

And get it he did. Tim snapped so many pictures that the photos were starting to overflow from his pockets. All of them of the boy who lived, of course. It was lucky too that since everyone was staring up at the two of them in awe that Tim got to sneak behind his classmates and take the pictures unnoticed.


	10. Professor meeting

By the end of September Dumbledore was growing anxious to hear reports of this year's first years, so instead of the usual meeting after Halloween, he called one today.

"Good evening, professors. I hope this year is going well so far?" 

Snape sneered as he recounted each and every incident with a Gryffindor perpetrator during Potions and in the corridors. "And I have not even mentioned Potter yet - the boy cants tell apart the simplest of herbs, lazing around all day and playing that infernal game, he has no intention of as much as paying attention in my class!" Voldemort noted Snape's dislike with amusement, at least he knew there was this deatheater ready to support him when he returns.

"Well I think the opposite." McGonogal snapped. "Mr. Potter is rather timid and quiet, not to mention hard working, although I agree that he could spend more time in his studies, one must remember that he is knew to the Wizarding World and Hogwarts must be very exciting." Both Voldemort and Quirrell stilled. Potter was muggle raised? Why? For what purpose would Dumbledore neglect training his only weapon and leave him to rust with that filth?

A few of the other teachers expressed surprise as well. "I thought he was raised by wizards and-"

"Lily's sister, the only living relative to Harry, is a muggle. She has been raising the boy as her own these past ten years. Unfortunately, she was hoping that Harry would not inherit his parents gift and didn't tell him of magic, as her love was so great she never wanted to part with her nephew." Dumbledore replied, and before anyone could reply, he changed the subject. "Have there been any other troubling first years?"

"Miss. Gra-Granger is ra-rather over-enthu-thusiastic." 

"I agree with Quirinus, she seems determined to prove herself the best in her year. And so far, she is."

"I do worry if her social life, I have yet to see her in the company of other students outside of class."

"I suppose you don't get to make many friendships while holed up in a book."

"Perhaps there is someone else who is struggling with making friends that we could slightly push towards Miss. Granger?" Dumbledore suggested, and the teachers tried to remember seeing any other lonely students. 

"Drake." Snape spit out. "Also a muggleborn and having a tough time fitting in with his peers in Slytherin. Although I have noticed that the pranks during his sleep have ceased, I have noticed (on more than one occasion) some roughhousing by his own housemates in the corridors. He is quiet, so his calm attitude might also calm down Granger." Most of the teachers agreed with that assessment, but Dumbledore wanted to hear more.

"How is Mr. Drake faring with his studies?"

"Outstandingly, Albus. He reads ahead and seems to have grasped wizarding culture during the holidays. Unlike most muggleborns, his quilwork is fantastic and a joy to read."

"He has adapted to the magical world quicker than most muggle raised children, now that you mention it." Dumbledore frowned as all the teachers around the table sang praises of the boy.

"He is such a sweet child, always so polite. And yet he is also confident." At last, Snape couldn't help it and said - "well, that sweet child tried tricking me on his first morning here." Dumbledore's lips twitched. This is what he was looking for.

"Oh? Do tell, Severus." 

"He sent a letter through the floo network between the common room and my office in the middle of the night. The handwriting was unusually tidy and at first glance I assumed it was one of the female students. The note spoke of worrying for one of the first year boys as there has already been a confrontation earlier that night. It mentioned specific names, which is the only way I knew that it was not written by the first year girls of Slytherin, but rather by Drake himself in an effort not to catch attention. The names that he wrote were of girls that I know for a fact would never write such a sentimental piece." 

Dumbledore had to resist the urge to smirk. Drake picked a side so he could start planning already. He was worried the boy would stay neutral for a while but this was perfect - for the greater good.

Voldemort, on the other hand felt rather bored with this. So what if the boy almost managed to trick one of the professors? He has been doing it successfully when he was a student.


	11. Third floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a little over a month passed since he started Hogwarts, Tim decided he was ready to explore the third corridor.

After a little over a month passed since he started Hogwarts, Tim decided he was ready to explore the third corridor. 

The adventure was nagging at him ever since Dumbledore declared certain death for anyone who went there, which was almost as if he was baiting Tim to it. He just had to know. 

So one night, he crept out of bed, spelling his shoes not to make a sound and heading towards his expedition. Unfortunately, it took a while, what with the staircases changing and avoiding the professors who should really know better if they're trying to catch students - he could hear them from a mile away.

Plus, all that sneaking around in Gotham payed off and he didn't even have to use Lumos to navigate the castle.

Catching sight of the door, he hurriedly cast 'Alahamora' (one of the spells they were going to study after Christmas, but he read ahead.) Tim slipped through and stared, almost petrified. There was a huge three headed dog snoring in front of him. Tim was about to back away when he noticed that the monster was lying on something. He squinted and recognized that huge ring as a way to pull a trap door open, like he's seen in the movies.   
.  
Otherwise, the room was empty. Add to that the smell of three drooling canine heads and Tim was done. 

 

The next day, Tim was searching up every bit of information he could find on Cerberus. All he knew so far was that he guarded the underworld. He remembered making specific research on Greek mythology a few years ago, when he realized that Batman and Wonder Woman were making kissy faces sometimes. But he was mainly memorizing the deities and forgot most of the monsters. 

Luckily for him, the school bestiary had information he hasn't even seen before. Traced back to the ancient times, where the three headed dogs were in common use as guards. Thieves found ways around them pretty soon - they fall asleep when they hear music. Because of that easily exploitable weakness, the dogs lost their popularity with the upper class and banks went back on mostly relying on runes (Gringotts didn't exist back then - goblins were still considered demonic creatures so...)

The next logical step was to either find a way to sneak a piano into the third floor (the only instrument his parents ever got him a tutor for) or to find a spell that recreate the sound of music. Or maybe he could try to find a spell that records someone singing so he could listen to them later.

He approached Professor Flitwick after the lesson was finished one day, hearing more than one 'know-it-all' and 'show-off' coming from the Slytherins. He fed the professor some sob-story of how he'd like to recreate a specific piece of music his parents loved to listen to in the muggle world. So Flitwick showed his a rather simple spell, that would only recreates some of the simplest melodies, as long as the wizard had the precise song in their head while casting, it should work. And on Tim's sixth try, it did.


	12. Malfoy

Draco wandered how anyone could be so stupid as to believe all of that about Drake. Muggleborn? Please.

Any self respecting pureblood knows that Salazar Slytherin himself made it impossible for muggleborns to be sorted into his house.

But why would Drake lie? Why would anyone want to masquerade as muggleborn?

He had given the Slytherins enough time to make Drake vulnerable and desperate for any kind of friendship, this was his chance to get closer and find out who the boy really was.

As they left Charms, Parkinson bumped into him, making his bag fall. And before he could pick it up, she did.

"Oops, let me help." Then she turned it over and let everything spill onto the floor. The ink bottle broke, ruining everything.

"Oh no, what a shame." Snickers erupted everywhere, even from the few Ravenclaws that dint just walk away, ignoring the situation.

She didn't see the curse coming, so she couldn't react in time to save herself from a simple Tarantalegla. Everyone turned to Draco, who was lowering his wand and kneeling down to help Drake, sending Crabbe and Goyle glares so that they'd help too.

"Clumsiness doesn't suit you, Parkinson. And stay away from Drake."

As he tried to clean one of the books, Drake snatched it from his hands, mumbled a thanks before stuffing it all in and scurrying away.

"Save us seats" he ordered before rushing to catch up.

"Wait up, Drake! I haven't even introduced myself."

"I know who you are, Malloy."

"Then surely you won't turn down my olive branch." Drake stopped and glanced up at him in curiosity.

"You want to be my friend?"

"Of course."

"I thought you hated muggleborns."

"Well, I have been observing you since the beginning of term. You're smart and skilled, that trumps your birth status in my books." Draco mentally rolled his eyes, but it seemed to be working. Drake was smiling already and held out his hand.

"Call me Tim then."

"Draco."

 

-

 

Later, in the confines of his bed, Tim wandered whether Malfoy thought he was an idiot. The only question was - why the sudden change of heart?


	13. Chapter 13

It's decided. Tim would search for whatever the dog was hiding on Halloween, he'd sneak out during the feast (which would also give him an excuse to bring his camera.)

He liked taking pictures of Draco, who seemed to look perfect in every shot, albeit not all that happy. Robin, at least, was always smiling. 

"I think I had too much candy, I'm not feeling well. I'll head down to the dorms." 

"Wait a second, Goyle will go with you." The boy groaned, only for Malfoy to glare at him. 

"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."

"Nonsense. It's for your own safety, Tim. Goyle, go." 

As they walked through the hallways and into the dungeons, Tim saw Quirrell walking rather... confidently. Change of plans then.

"You don't have to go all the way, I won't tell Malfoy." Goyle nodded, not even bothering to say thank you as he went back. Tim, meanwhile, sneaked after Quirrell. 

There was a secret door in the dungeons. Quirrell muttered a password that Tim couldn't hear and slipped inside. The passage was narrow, so Tim didn't dare to follow. He just waited for the professor, his camera at the ready. He was not expecting the man to come out carrying a miniature troll, which he then gently lowered. As he brought out his wand, Tim snapped a picture - the Troll became full-sized. Then, Quirrell ran. Tim, not wanting to reveal himself, stayed.

What the hell was going on? Was Quirrell working for someone? The troll was clearly a distraction (Poison Ivy sometimes used clayface in the same way). But for what? Quirrell couldn't have had the same plan as Tim, could he? But why use a distraction? No one even noticed Quirrell was gone anyway? Unless Tim underestimated the amount of time it would take to see what was hidden under Cerberus.

What could be so important someone would pretend to be a teacher just to get to it at the right moment? And Tim wasn't throwing out the possibility that he could be wrong and Quirrell was doing this for a different reason entirely.

Ok, he has two options: go after Quirrell, try to stop him and probably get killed or just hurt if he's lucky. Or, he waits for Snape, gives him the evidence and the adults who know enough magic to do something about it would get Quirrell.

Tim is not Robin. He knows that - he will never be Robin, he just doesn't have that inherent goodness Dick Grayson has that puts him in danger for a chance of saving someone. Tim goes further into the dungeon to wait for Snape.

\- time skip

Tim chickened out from even that, in the end. He just slipped the photos under Snape's door and ran off to the common room. Where Draco was waiting for him.

"Where have you been?"

"I just remembered I had to return something to the library. Why?"

"There was a troll in the castle! You could've died!"

"Well, I'm fine. How did you find out about the troll, by the way?" So Draco told him how Quirrell ran into the room, shouted that, and fainted. All the while Tim couldn't keep his eyes off of Goyle's split lip and the possibilities of other injuries under his clothes.

"So you're telling me that the defense professor saw a troll, and instead of defending us, he ran away screaming?"


End file.
